


Holding Hands

by Lacrima



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Romance, TsukiYama Week, Tsukkiyama Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrima/pseuds/Lacrima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun goes down, the crickets sing, and the team returns to their homes.</p><p>Tsukishima reaches for Yamaguchi's hand.</p><p>Written for: Tsukiyama week day 1: holding hands</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I rather adore much of the hq children... I hope you like this! Although I finished writing this on the day (7/1) I am late in posting (it takes time to post)

The colors of the Milky Way were brightening and slowly blinking into life from the indigo duvet that sank softly over the still-smoldering sunset. The singing of the crickets layered over the team’s steady but fading steps, and the raucous laughter bounced off the walls, ringing throughout the neighborhood.

Yamaguchi let his eyes slide shut, breathed in, and listened.

Fresh grass, soaked earth, budding blooms, sizzling platters, chattering families. Home.

Yamaguchi peered at Tsukishima through lashes light with streetlamp-glow. His heart still stuttered against his wishes whenever he remembered to place “Tsukishima” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence, and it did so again, lodging his heart somewhere in the base of his throat.

Much to his bemusement, he had felt more easily comfortable with Tsukishima before their relationship… it had been ridiculously easy, despite their seeming lack of similarities. Sometimes, family would accuse them of being telepathic, and claimed they got on like a house on fire. Yamaguchi never understood what that meant-- because didn’t a burning house go down? Personally, he thought they got on like bees and flowers. Mutualistic. Of course, the relationship hadn’t much changed, merely Yamaguchi’s perception of it.

So absorbed was he with his internal musings, he didn’t notice the feet before him stop on the dimly-lit sidewalk, and his forehead smacked into the rough fabric of the shirt in front of him.

“Tch, idiot.”

Their relationship was as the first perfect piece of an art series that could not be replicated with any number of tries with the same medium, brush strokes, and colors.

As Tsukishima interlocked their fingers and pushed their warm palms together, Yamaguchi breathed in the familiar scents around them. The stars had all blinked into existence, the colors of the Milky Way spilled across the sky like the swirls when milk and tea first touch, and the smolder atop the mountains had dimmed to warm, peach embers. Yamaguchi’s lips curled upwards and he thought to himself that he would never trade this for anything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to call them glasses and freckles but I'm not doing crack for once (I'm in an excellent mood and decided to write instead of draw once again!)


End file.
